Forgotten Things
by MichelleLeahhh
Summary: Peeta Mellark remembers when Katniss was a wide-eyed, innocent teen. Now she's a drugged-up high school drop out, and he could care less... or so he thinks. Join Peeta as he learns that a projected image doesn't necessarily represent the person. !Dark.
1. Chapter 1

Hi guys,

Welcome to my first fanfiction in this fandom. There may be quite a few errors as I don't have a beta. If any of you are interested in helping… well you're more than welcome to step up to the scary plate. Yeah… well… ok. I hope you like it!

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"What in god's name is that?" I hear Glimmer spit over the loud, pulsing music. I look over at my brother's girlfriend and follow her line of sight.

Curled in the corner of the room, on the patched-up couch, is Katniss Everdeen. Her body is spooned around some random guy, as his mouth is attached to her bruised neck. The girl would do anything for some coke. This wasn't the first time I had seen her at a frat party, it was, nonetheless, one of the reasons I had stopped going. At the age of 21 I was disillusioned, unfazed, by this entire scene, but when I was 19, and saw girls like Katniss here, I realized it wasn't my thing.

She hadn't been more than sixteen years old when she first arrived at a college party.

"Katniss Everdeen," I replied with a smirk. Glimmer and Katniss grew apart after their freshman year of high school. Four years later they still haven't rekindled their relationship.

She stares at me then rolls her eyes."Seriously, Peeta? It was a rhetorical question." I shrugged playing with my red cup. "Who the fuck let her come here? She doesn't even go to Dartmouth. God, did she even graduate high school?" Glimmer complains with narrowed eyes at the girl. Her incessant pattering becomes background noise that fades with the music.

The drink in my hand is luke warm and smells as revolting as the sweaty bodies around me. Nameless faces weaved in and out of the crowds, causing everything to blur. All I want to do is sleep, crawl into bed and let the night fade. Glimmer leaves my side with a huff when I won't play into her bitch fest.

Instead of running after her, I take a sip of my beer and cringe. It's as hot and revolting as this room and somehow finds its way onto the nearest end table, stacked on top of other long forgotten beers.

Hell, why am I even here; if only people could see me. The remarkable Peeta Mellark, wrestling extraordinaire of Dartmouth, crammed into a corner at a frat party.

I turn away from Katniss and the beer and the crowds. I search for an escape route from this party, but all I see are the throngs of gyrating bodies. I notice Annie and Finnick from across the room. I smile as she carelessly throws her hands around his neck. Her jerky movements causes parts of her drink to spill onto the blow-up blonde who sends a dirty look towards Annie.

"What's so funny, Mellark?" I turn my head slightly to the right to find that the voice comes from Clove Duke.

"Annie," I nod my head to the girl.

"Isn't she a little young to be getting herself caught in all this trouble?" Clove, ever the tactless bitch smiles, "It's not like it did you well."

I chuckle, "How old where you when you went to your first frat party?" She laughs and shakes her head.

"I miss you," she whispers suggestively as she squeezes her hand around my bicep.

Once upon a time, Clove and I, for lack of a better word 'dated'; put up all that fictitious shit for my mom, who was beginning to think I would never settle down: now we just fuck. I don't have time for relationships. Not like Cato or Rye do. They call me a bitch, I call them pussies.

Clove licks her perfectly painted red lips, "Buy me a drink?"

"Not tonight, Clove, I have to get up early tomorrow." I thought about my father and his detestable guilt trips.

"For what?"

"I have to help out at the homeless shelter."

The shelter is part of my family's business: Mellark's Bakery, the self-proclaimed best bakery in all of New Hampshire. We have the means to support ourselves but my dad always felt that we should give back. So he cleaned up our drunk neighbor, Haymitch, and gave him a job to do for a steady income and good, free whisky. The shelter isn't completed yet, but it is almost done.

We donate breads and help Haymitch occasionally when the place is too much to handle for his liver. He monitors the shelter while teens, either mandated by court or volunteering for college applications do the hard work. Dad thinks Cato, Rye and I need to set good examples and help.

Everyday my mom reminds her husband that we live in the second wealthiest county in the country. Everyday, my dad responds that there isn't one for over a hundred miles. They don't get along very well, but mom gets her Guccis while dad gets his hope. Our mom hates that we "waste" our money on bums, but dad likes to think of it as a way of giving back.

"I heard about that. Mellark's Bakery turned to Mellark's Shelter, how's it going?" Clove leans closer, her dark hair grazes my cheek, and she places her hand on my chest.

"It's getting there," I smile. As I looked down at her, I noticed that she is beautiful, breathtaking even; I just don't find her captivating anymore. Most men, on the other hand, would get on their hands and knees to have her in their dorms, let alone their bed. I'm about to pull away and resist her advances, but then I catch sight of her long legs hidden under her skirt.

Fuck it, I'm lonely and haven't gotten laid in forever. "We should get together sometime soon though." I flirt with my best cocky smile.

"Sounds enticing," she says, "I, however, am going to charm myself a beer from some schmuck. See you soon, Hun." Her red lips curve up as she set off to flirt with one of the new frat kids.

My head begins to pound from the obnoxious music. My body is tired and my vision blurs. I needed to leave. Straining myself to refocus, I scan the crowd and notice my brother, Cato. He stands against the opposite wall with two full red cups in his hand. I noticed the younger frat boys were moving quickly around Cato as they made their way to the keg. He just smiles at the people around him as he waits for Glimmer to return. He's pussywhipped.

I make my way over to Cato and ask where Glimmer fled to. The big oaf smiles at me and chugs the rest of his cup.

"She went to complain. Apparently there were people here she didn't see to her tasting, and well, you know Glim, she always needs to have it her way." He nods his head to the other side of the room near the staircase leading upstairs.

Following his direction, I see Glimmer. Her back is to us, rigid and erect at full height, as she lectured some poor soul. Not until she moves away do I notice the retreating braid. All I could do was stare.

"Does it really matter that she's here?" I knew Glimmer would find a problem Katniss, but who gives a shit? Honestly. The girl is a doped up whore, who just looks for the next drug or man pump into her body_._

An awkward silence surrounds us as we watch the retreating slumped silhouette of Katniss Everdeen. Cato drinks from his second cup and looks away with a smirk.

"It's so fucking hot when she takes charge," he says with a wolfish grin.

I clear my throat and turned to my brother, "Well, I'm going; I promised dad I'd help at the shelter tomorrow." Cato rolls his eyes.

"You just got here, tell him you can't do it."

"You know dad, he promised Haymitch I'd be there to help the kids," I explain.

"Well then have fun, golden boy." He pats, or really punches my back His fist pumps into my arm leaving a sting in its wake, but its nothing I'm not use to. "Tell the old drunk I said hi."

"Yeah, ok. Do yourself a favor and lay off the 'roids, I hear they're bad for your performance." I wink and glance around the room one last time.

"Fuck off Peet," he replies. "You're the one with performance issues. When was the last time you got laid?" I roll my eyes.

Glimmer came back over to us and smirks. "Fucking cunt doesn't know who she's messing with." She says as she leans into Cato. This is my chance and I take it.

I walk out the door and shiver as the cool December air hits me. It enshrouds me, kissing my skin and leaving goose bumps in its wake. My body slumps into my silver Jeep, but awakens when the sent of new leather hits my nostrils.

I start my car and shift it into drive. It isn't a long drive to my off-campus apartment. The only downside is that I have to drive past the slums, commonly known to as the Seam. It isn't a big section, but the houses aren't close to where my family or I live.

After I lived in the dorm life for three years, I was granted the privilege of being able to own my own apartment off campus. Nice area, nice view, and especially nice privacy; something I never had growing up. Now at 21, I was able to be blissfully on my own while Cato shacked up in the frat house.

As I drove through the college campus, I saw a figure walking the streets ahead of me.

_I'll. Be. Damned._

Katniss _fucking_ Everdeen.

To tell the truth, I'm not surprised. The girl probably dropped out of high school and doesn't have the means own a car or a license.

Years ago, Glim would bring her over from time to time to our parties. When Katniss wasn't with her other friends, Gale or Madge, she could be decent company, but that was before she started using.

I watch her from behind, she looks freezing and her hands pump at the skin of her frighteningly frail arms that are only covered by a tan hunting jacket. The skin looked like cellophane stretching over rough edges. The sight of her tiny arms sends a jab of sickness through my body. The girl looks like she hasn't eaten in weeks perhaps a repercussion from her recreational use of cocaine.

While it's sad, and sickening, I don't feel sorry for her -not one bit- she chose the road she went down. But I can't stop the reverberating voice in my head urging me to stop and help her. So I do stop, I stop just behind her. My angels and demons battle; should I offer her a ride or pass by her. The second sounds more inviting, but she looks frigid, frail, and isolated.

_What the hell is she thinking? _It's December, in fucking New Hampshire, maybe she wants to die. The remnants of snow on the flawless lawns only aided my sickening thoughts. We're not in fucking Hollywood, she should know hypothermia is a thing.

I slowly pull my car up beside her and scroll the window down. "Katniss?" She tilts her head to the side and frowns; a mar on what could have been, if not for its ashen tone and solemn appearance, a beautiful face. I remember it being beautiful, but now it just looks lifeless and sunken, with black contours around her blood-shot silver eyes. She looks down at her feet and kept moving, shifting her feet faster as her dark braid hair sweeps over her shoulder. Her breath increase causing a white pant to pass out of her lips. She appears tired, endlessly proceeding for solace in a warm bed.

My foot edges on the rubber gas peddle, to follow at her pace. "Do you need a ride?"

I glance from her to the road then back again to her. While her greasy braid swings with her movements; her bangs cling to her olive skin. She looks so hollow. Vacant.

She doesn't answer, instead she keeps walking and hugging her limbs close to her chest.

"I don't know if you remember me, I'm Peeta Mellark. You use to come over my house with Glimmer Bale. She was you're best fr-" She stops and glares at me.

"I know who you are; I'm not a fucking idiot." She bites her lip and stands there like a skeleton.

I reassuringly smile at her and ask, "Do you want a ride?"

"Walking is good for the heart," she turns back around and begins to walk.

"I'm sure the drugs are too." She whips her head at me and well... if looks could kill so they say. I glance at the clock on the dashboard it is almost one in the morning.

"Excuse me," she hisses in my direction before returning back to her brisk pace.

"Shit, I'm sorry." I grip the steering wheel, "Look, it's 20 degrees outside you must be cold. Why can't I just give you a ride home, you're on my way."

She bites her chapped bottom lip and I know I'm at least cracking her down. "It's fine, I wouldn't want my drugged body to mar your perfect leather seat."

I roll my eyes, "Seriously, I'm sorry, just get in and you don't have to speak to me again. You're house isn't for another 10 miles. You could get in trouble for being out as a minor, I'd hate to see what Cray would do to you." I reason with her. I know from the shelter that the only thing to cause fear in any drug-addicts heart was the creepy and decrepit sherif.

She slows to a stop and looks back at the car. I unlock the door and it's the only invitation she needs before tumbling in next to me. I turn the heat up as high as it can go and roll the window back up at the touch of a button.

We drive in an awkward silence. I sneak a glance at her from the corner of my eye and notice how lost she looks. Her eyes are still grey but an unsettling black ring had surrounded them, juxtaposing with her haunting skin. Sitting in my car, surrounded by black leather, huddled in her corner gripping at her waist, she looks like a mangled girl who grew up too fast.

The silence is deafening so I put on the radio, "You should put your seatbelt on."

"Maybe you should do the same," she quickly retorts not looking at me from the window. I can't stop the chuckle that escapes from her defense mechanism.

"So how did you like the party?"

"It was the same as every night. Thom asked me to go, so I did. It would have been fine if Victoria The Slut hadn't threatened to call the cops and make me to leave. She's a fucking bitch." Her voice is hoarse, like gravel, and it reeks of vodka and cigarettes, something I had never been fond of.

"Victoria goes by Glimmer now, you know. She's just …" I search for the right words to explain Cato's girlfriend.

"The devil's spawn?" She smiles, her white lips cracked open over her teeth; a smile looks good on her, but incredibly out of place.

I clear my throat about to defend her as I pull up to the Everdeen household. It looks like a dump. The left window is shattered and the sole light came from the living room television. White paint is peeling off the sides of the house and its shudders dangle from the windows. The landscape outside looks like it was abandoned, and hasn't been touched in years; the grass is at least six inches high, even in the dead of winter.

She stares at me numbly, mumbling curses under her breath, before opining the door and slamming it shut. There's no thank you, no lustful stares or awkward goodbyes. Instead, I just stare after her retreating form and wonder what happened to her.

But honestly, who gives a shit? She's just a train wrecked teenager, riding the tracks of life until her inevitable crash. There's nothing I can do and nothing I want to do because drug addicts can't be saved.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello my fellow readers,

Thank you so much to all the reviews, follows, and favorites. A special thanks to chele20035 for betaing this chapter for me. She's so brilliant and awesome!

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Courtesy of my trio of alarm clocks, I wake up at 7:30. Groggy and dreading my day, I slump out of bed and get dressed. I personally think that waking up this early should be reserved for kindergarteners and elders, but I digress. It's just utter bullshit to wake up before the suns can shine through my wooden blinds. The only positive to morning was the sunrise, orange and delicate, a beautiful reminder that a new day was here.

Luckily, I spent my entire high school career waking up to work at the bakery, so I'm use to ungodly and inhumane hours. I'm almost positive Cato, on the other hand, has never woken up before ten. He is too privileged and favored by mom to have to knead dough every morning.

I check my phone and notice my dad left me a voice mail explaining that he has a shipment that needs to be picked up for the shelter.

Living in a rich town has its benefits. Instead of scared straight or cleaning up the side of the road, kids have to help feed the homeless. A deed to many of these kids is nothing more than a sentence rather than a volunteer.

I walk through Mellark's doors at 8, just in time for the morning rush. Rye is behind the counter with dad punching registers and packaging fresh breads.

As I trudge behind the counter Dad looks up at me welcomes, "Morning son." After finished packing sourdough bread for his customer, he says, "The loaves are on the shelf. I also packaged some bagels for the kids. Just so they feel at home."

"Thanks," I pick up the breads and glance through the hallway for mom. I'm really not in a mood to see her, but it's just another thing she'll hold against me if I don't say hi. "Where's mom," I ask.

"Ah, she's not feeling like herself today, you can go. I'll tell her you asked about her." My father threw a sad smile over at me. "but don't forget about tomorrow, we're having brunch, all the Mellarks. I told Rye and Cato they could bring the girls. So if you," he takes a breath, "You know, if you're seeing anyone, bring them." My father sends me a hopeful glance and I shrug.

It's in my nature to dismiss my dad. He's a nice enough guy, one that always approved of me, but I always felt alienated from him. "Yeah, sure." I balance the bag in my left hand and send him a wave, "Ok, well see you tomorrow." I shake my head at his words. He knows I'm not seeing anyone, and if I were no one would be good enough for mom, not like Glimmer or Darla was. I leave the shop and carefully place the goods in the passenger side of my truck.

I make short work of the commute to the shelter and before I know it I'm tightly parked in between the white lines.

I'm quite impressed with my father's choice of location. There are places for people to sleep and a banquet hall to serve over 200, which will be useful for the holidays. There are four columns on the outside decorating the building and welcoming those who enter.

As I make my way through the door, my arms stuffed with packages, I take in the tall, tiled ceilings and the grand stair case. There's a balcony overlooking the bottom floor and from a distance I could see a group of teens painting one of the rooms. I dropped the bag of bagels on the welcome table by the front doors for people to take.

I carried the other breads to Haymitch's office. Not surprisingly, his head rests on top of his desk calendar, and his right hand still has a pen in it, like he was signing papers before sleep swiftly overtook him.

I drop the packages on his desk with a loud thump and his head shoots up with a grunt. "What are you trying to do? Give me a heart attack? You coulda killed me." His pen is jutting at me, punctuating his words. "I'm not the young man I once was, kid."

I shake my head at him, "Please, with your luck you'll outlive all of us."

"You're not wrong about that my boy." He looks into the hall and takes in the large group of kids that just arrived. "Don't tell your brothers, but you're my favorite. You always stay outta my hair" I tried hard to smile, but I was positive it didn't reach my eyes. I was no one's favorite, and I knew that, but at least he deserves some browny points for trying.

He handed me a stack of lists filled with things to do, right were his pen conveniently was, to keep the delinquents out of trouble. "You can assign the jobs to the kids. From the looks of it, I'd guess they're all here except for one, but I expect she'll be here any minute."

I walked over to the kids; they were the typical rich kids trying to make a name for themselves. A few of them seem to have their heads on strait, just looking for the extra volunteer hours to apply for college with. Most of them were fifteen, few younger and some older. I tell them what to do and where to do it.

As I waited for the last person to make their appearance, I smother cream cheese onto my bagel. It was of course, the last one left. God I hated cinnamon-raisin bagels, cinnamon just overweighs the flavor of the bread, weighing the true taste down. It overwhelms the senses like funeral flowers, pungent and just overbearing. And if I weren't that hungry, I'd probably leave it for the last person.

Out of boredom, and sheer disgust for them, I flick the raisins out of my bagel another mistake. A tap on my shoulder stopped me from taking the first bite, and while I expect it to be the mysterious missing volunteer, I find Haymitch's greasy dark hair looming at me.

"Katniss Everdeen's here," he grunts, obviously unhappy about her tardiness or downtrodden and emaciated appearance.

I don't consider Haymitch knowing Katniss a huge shock or surprise, the girl seems like she always was in trouble, so she's probably volunteering often. I'm just surprised she showed up, in her scowling and braided glory.

For a brief second I wonder if that's why she got into the car with me last night, her probation prohibited her from being out late at night. Her arms enclose her body, hugging it as if she were alone waiting for another to join her.

If possible, she looks worse than the night before. Her silver orbs rush around the room, from painted corner to painted corner, never concentrating on one place for too long.

Twice in two days after four years of avoidance. What are the chances?

"Hey sweetheart, over here." Haymitch waves Katniss over and leaves me to it, snatching a solitary bite from my discarded bagel. Katniss stops in front of me biting her lip.

"Hey, you just need to go upstairs and paint the bedrooms. The paint is in the closet to the left and paint brushes are there." I smile at her unresponsive face. "It's um the yellow color." Her scowl must be a permanent fixture of her oval face.

"Fantastic." She turns and walks up the stairs.

Now, I could finally eat my cinnamon-raisin bagel, even if Haymitch took the first bite.

After an hour of helping Haymitch set up his office downstairs, I make my rounds making sure the kids are doing exactly what I told them. There were three kids that had taken the liberty of sitting in the banquet room with their feet kicked on a table to 'chill out.'

"It's a break dude," one of the miscreants said.

As I made my way upstairs, I found myself being lured to the room I had told Katniss to paint. I watch her from the doorway as she stands on top of the stepladder holding herself up as high as she could, to paint the crummy walls a subtle shade of yellow.

Her shirt rises above the hem of her pants, and I can't help but wince at the sight of her back, from where I'm standing I can see four vertebrae mangling her skin. How can she live with such starvation?

I clear my throat about to say she doesn't have to stretch so far, that there is another ladder in the closet, but it's as if she can hear me long before I'm there. "What do you want?" She scoffs.

"I uh wanted to tell you that there's another ladder in the closet, if you needed it."

"Alright I'll remember that when I need it." She doesn't look at me though, her body remains focused on her wall. It remains like a statue numbly painting the walls with slow strokes.

I just sit there, dumbly looking up at her. At that precise moment, her stomach made its entrance to the world; I almost thought it didn't exist. I expect her to say something, but she doesn't, instead she haunches her shoulders forward.

I remember just then that she never got to eat any bagels because she came in after they were all gone. It doesn't even take me three seconds to contemplate the words that spill unwillingly out of my mouth.

"Do you want something to eat?"

"No, I just want to get this done as soon as possible and get out of this shit hole," she replies reaching higher on the ladder.

I stand there looking dumbfounded at the brunette, who's only interest is to finish the task at hand. She'd sacrifice food and water if it meant leaving here to find a drug. What other reason would she forgo food for if it weren't some hollowing narcotic to make her forget about whatever it is she wanted to dismiss in her life.

It's four hours later when I notice how late it is.

"Ya know, this place ain't half bad. I sure could get use to it." Craig says, lifting a chair to the other side of the room. I don't know who he's kidding or trying to impress, he's a privileged sixteen year old, use to his temperpedic bed, his plush bank account, and onslaught of electronics to occupy him.

Craig makes his way over to me and asks, "So you know that girl Katniss?"

My ears perk up, but I stay concentrated on sliding the bed across the floor. "Yeah" Craig let out a long whistle.

"Have you seen the pair of legs on her, man? Damn I'd fuck her every way possible. I'd bet a million dollars she gives great head." Craig smiles at the thought and I just want to punch the massive grin off his over bronzed face. Not because he was talking about Katniss like that, but because he was so damn smug, with his red hair dusting over his eyes.

"I'm sure," he can tell from my voice that I am completely uninterested in his fantasy. It just disgusts me when guys talk about girls like their objects.

"You don't think so?"

"I just don't think you have a dick to suck off," I'm not joking, but the kid laughs, full heartedly. It's so loud and boisterous, making good use of the acoustics, that I don't even hear Haymitch thump up the stairs.

"You can take a break Craig," He surprises us.

Craig pats me on the shoulder blade, winks obnoxiously, and leaves with a smile on his face. As Craig walked out the newly furnished room, I stand there for a second unsure of what to do with myself. I take a seat on one of the two beds, when Haymitch makes his way over to me.

"It was good of you to come today, Peeta." He smiles warmly at me and for a second, I think he does care about me. For a brief and fleeting moment I think that maybe the old drunk has gotten soft in his old age or intuitively knows what he's doing. But that moment passes when he puts his hand on his stomach and says, "By the way I ate your lunch so you might want to go out and get one."

"You paying, old man?" I stand up.

Haymitch smirks, "Well whatever makes you happy." He pats the lapel on his jacket and stumbles to the center of the room. "Just make sure you come back, I can't manage these kids today. I swear they get dumber every week." He stands back up and makes his way out.

"Yeah, alright, Sounds good."

Haymitch nods his head and turns towards the door, "I better go downstairs to make sure none of the kids tried sneaking out. Fucking miscreants, the lot of them..." He trails off, shakes his head dramatically and leaves the way he came in.

I follow him through the entrance, but when my eyes catch the newly yellow walls, I'm pulled to the adjacent room. I find myself in the same position as this morning, peering in the empty room at the braided brunette.

Katniss sits on the ground, her knees huddled to her chest looking at the drying paint wallowing in what I guessed was self-misery. I wonder why she isn't downstairs eating, and then remember she probably doesn't care about nourishment. Instead, she's probably rocking her body back in forth to combat the shaking and count the seconds until she can blissfully self-medicate herself. As if she can read my mind, she places a hand on her grumbling stomach and shifts forward. It's as if she wants to evade her hunger.

"Did Haymitch give you permission to eat?" I ask, wondering why she wouldn't just go eat something.

Her shoulders stiffen and her hand flies from the stomach to her side. I can't help but notice that it was shaking as pressed on the floor. In one fluid motion, she stands on her feet and turns around to meet my eyes, "yes."

"Then why aren't you downstairs eating?" She looks down at the floor, breaking the connection between the two eyes.

"I don't want to eat here." Her words are measured, as if she herself doesn't believe them. It's almost as if they were leaking from a computer that had just spat out reports about weather conditions, the words were too practiced, too measured.

"Well, I have to go out to eat something, care to join me?" I know she's hungry and I'd be damned if she didn't put something through her white, chapped lips.

"Not really," she assures me, holding my gaze. I think she tries to come off like she was confident, but instead they look sad and hopeful.

"Come on, it'll be fun. Besides, Haymitch asked me to pick some stuff up anyway so I'm sure he'd give you hours for helping me carry stuff in," I lie. I try and reassure her by pulling my lips back and grinning widely. Instead of instantly agreeing, Katniss shakes her head and looks beyond my shoulder as if she is expecting someone to appear in the room.

"Please?" Why the fuck am I begging her, she obviously doesn't care.

She looks at me skeptically, "I'll get hours?" I nod my head cutting her off, as if I'm an eager puppy waiting for a treat. "You better not be fucking lying or I'll cut your balls off," she breezes pass me not waiting for me to follow her.

"I'll meet you outside by my car." I call to her as she pads down the stairs and out the door. "It's the silver J-"

"I fucking remember," I smirk at her reply.

I walked through the door to Haymitch's office, he is slumped over the desk drooling on a stack of crumbled papers. This time, when I poke him awake, I'm careful not to receive the same violent reaction as this morning. .

"Hey, I'm running to get lunch; I should be back in like an hour." He grunts, not fully aware I'm not even there.

I turn to leave when he grumbles, "Are you taking Katniss with you?" _Fuck._

I push my hair back, thinking if I should lie or tell the truth. "Yeah, I asked her to help me because I need to go to Home Depot to grab more paint; I figured if she wasn't going to eat, she might as well get some community service in." I explain to him, not wanting to mislead Haymitch, that this, that Katniss is anything other than a charity. As if I could be interested in a coke head like Katniss Everdeen, a girl who so obviously cares nothing for education and success.

"Well that's kind of you," he puzzles at me, almost like he thought I was in love with Katniss.

"I guess I was raised well."

He laughed at that and, as if he knew everything, just shook his head. "Well don't keep the girl waiting outside in the cold for too long. And take your time, I'd hate to think what would happen if you rushed." He then lowers his head back to the paperwork, dismissing me and sending me on my way.

As I make my way outside I grimace at her standing next to the passenger door. She just looks so small. I still have the mental picture of the innocent, awkward and gangly 13 year-old girl in my head. While I look at her now, hugging her narrow waist, I realize she never grew out of her awkwardness. I reach into my pocket and pressed the start button on the key chain and unlock the door. She jumps in it needing no other invitation.

I rush to the car because I just don't trust her. (I would say as far as I could throw her, but I'm pretty sure her weight equaled the sacks of flour I was use to throwing at the baker.)

I sit in the driver's seat and press the start engine button, I maneuver the car into drive and pull out of my parking spot. I glance through the corner of my eye; her hands fidget in her lap.

"So where do you want to eat," I ask.

She looks startled and turns to me, "I'm not hungry. That thing with my stomach it happens all the time, honestly I eat like a pig. I just want the extra hour."

I snort; her arms don't support that theory. I pull up to Burger King, I hate fast food, but it looks like this is going to be her only meal of the day, maybe a week even. It has to be fattening. "Just tell me what you want."

"I'm not fucking hungry." She looks angry, a flash of red cover her cheeks but this time, I knew, it isn't from embarrassment.

"I'm trying to be nice here, and you aren't letting me to." I clenched my jaw to keep from shaking some sense into her.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I think you're mistaking me for giving a shit," Katniss mocks me turning her head to face the glass. "Besides, I have fucking caviar waiting for me at the shelter, I forgot to tell you." Her expression is so blatant that I can not control the bark of laughter that came from me.

"Please excuse me your highness." I smile at her but she just continues to frown.

"How may I help you?" The monotone voice from the drive-threw-window flows through my ears.

"Can I have two large whopper combinations, please?" I sneak a glance at Katniss to see her seething in her seat, "This isn't for you, I like to eat a lot." She just shakes her head.

"Ok, with what kind of drink," the girl voice asks like a machine.

"Two cokes," I reply as quickly as possible.

"You must get parched too. But I like sprite" Katniss comments not looking away from the window. I can't stop my smile.

"Too bad," I snap back.

"Your total is $10.42 pull up to the second window please."

I put the car in drive and pull up behind an Escalade. I turn to look at Katniss in her seat, she's staring out the clattering window, resting her head in her hands. I can't tear my eyes from her, it's the first time I've seen her in the daylight in years. I see a scar on her wrist and another on the side of her neck. Around her jaw, the skin seems yellow, like it is a fading bruise. _She must like it rough._ I'm instantly repulsed by my thought.

It's silent in the car as I pull up to the window. The young teen hands me a medium sized bag and shyly smiles at me, "Hi!"

I gather that she's too over-enthusiastic because her voice cracks at the end of her greeting and her cheeks are flushed with hints of red. I smile and ask for ketchup, taking the moment to give the bag to Katniss who remains unfazed by the interaction in the passenger seat. She still refuses to take the bag so I drop it on her ungrateful lap.

The blonde hands me the massive drinks and I give her a tight smile. Her breath catches in her throat and 'accidentally' brushes her hand against mine.

I hear a snort come from next me and when I looked over my shoulder I see Katniss chewing a fry and watching the exchange. I give her a crooked grin as my eyes flicker to the fry in her mouth, and as she smiles back, the food pokes through her white teeth.

I turn back to the girl and give her a twenty and speed off, not waiting for the change. I choose not to dwell on Katniss' grim look at my nonchalant view of money.

After a few minuets Katniss speaks, "I hope you don't mind me eating." It is barely a whisper and I have to strain myself to hear it clearly.

"Katniss, I don't mind, it's why I bought two." I smile and peer at her, the burger was halfway done. Her eyes were fluttered shut as she chewed, it was like this food was a divine four course meal. Watching her eat makes me feel good, it is like I am supporting her.

"So does that kind of thing happen often?" Her eyes open and she turns in her seat, staring at me expectantly.

"What kind of thing?" I pull onto the street the shelter is on.

She coughs and shakes her head quickly. "You know the girl from the fast food place," she answers quickly. I give her a quizzical stare and she flushes. "She was practically eye fucking you."

I frown,"To tell the truth, I never notice that kind of thing." After the words spill out, I hear a very un-ladylike and unrestrained sound come from her, "Did you just snort?" I ask her.

She laughs, it honestly is the most gorgeous sound I've heard in a long time. When I look at her she is eating the second burger. I don't know whether to be pissed at the fact that I can't eat or be happy because she's finally eating.

Once she finishes the food, she asks, "So why are you here?"

"My dad likes to guilt trip me into helping Haymitch, and since Cato and Rye have real lives of their own, I like to step up to the plate." I tell her honestly, in part hoping she would tell the truth if I asked her the same thing. I just can't help myself, "You?"

"I really don't want to talk about it," she looks out the window and it looks as if a wave of sadness envelopes her. Katniss shakes it off and turns back to me, "Do you know James Thresh?"

I wince, every burnout knows Thresh, it is impossible to go to Dartmouth and not know the drug dealer.

"Well I was muling his oxy for him when the cops frisked me, apparently they got a tip saying I was carrying stolen drugs, even though Thresh gave them to me. Cops don't give a shit, they just wanted to pin the drugs on someone.

"They confiscated them and threw me in jail, and said, under the circumstance, I could get off with 12 weeks of community service, if I ratted him out. They said it was a favor to my Uncle Thread. Yeah... So here I am." She looked at me from the seat her hands gripping to her knees.

"They wanted him, not me and well…." She pauses, "I'm selfish." The last part is barely a whisper, like I'm not meant to hear her. "Besides, orange is not my color," she quips.

I nod, at least she is truthful. I offer her a smile and look ahead, pulling into the shelter.

"I thought we needed to go to Home Depot," she looks around realizing where we were.

"It's not that big of a deal," I say simply turning the car off.

"Not that big of a deal? I just fucking wasted an hour of time so I could fucking eat a shitty burger with you in this fucking car." She is mad. It doesn't take a rocket-science to figure that out.

"Haymitch will give you time, besides, you were hungry." I say turning to her.

"I'm not looking to get off easy because Haymitch's golden boy decides he wants to be my knight in shining fucking armor. Fuck off." She gets out of the car.

She peers at me through the opened door, "I hate to break it with you baker-boy, but some people actually have to earn the things they get. Not everyone has a fucking easy life." She slowly says through her teeth. With that she slams the metal and storms off.


	3. Chapter 3

Hi guys!

I'm so thankful for the reviews! Really means so much. Just a snippet of Katniss background here, as I promised. I'm currently working on Chapter 4, and hope to have it up soon.

By the way, I have a tumblr now, You can find it here:

Anyway, I'm sorry this chapter's late, I was finishing up my Honors Thesis. I hope you like it!

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By the time five o'clock rolls around, all my energy is drained.

After our, or really her, spat in the car, Katniss decided that ignoring me was the best possible way to spend the rest of her day. I tried to apologize for a second time, but she decided to exit the room and visit Haymitch's office to get another assignment, due to the completion of the now painted the walls. He only sent her back to me. She then, returned with a scowl and was forcibly asked me for a task. I couldn't keep the eat-shit grin off my face.

I removed her from the room to organize the kitchen downstairs, while I spent the rest of the day painting the high parts of the wall. I couldn't help but remember the way Katniss ate the burger and fries like it was her life savior. I was intrigued by Katniss, more so because I had constantly put a label on her to be no more than a druggy, now I can't help but wonder if it is all an act. Just a way for her to get attention.

God knows she's slept with enough of Cato's frat brothers.

As I walk out the door I see Katniss and Haymitch in the office. I can tell they're in a deep conversation but I can't stop myself from listening to the words. I move beyond the door and listen for a few seconds.

"How's your family doing," Haymitch asks.

"Fine," she says harshly.

There's a long pause and then Haymitch says, "And the little one, she still-"

"Can we not do this. I'm just here for you to sign my papers and leave" She slams something on the desk. If it wasn't for the crack in her voice, I would never have known she was upset.

I can't listen anymore without obviously invading some type of privacy. I pace myself to the car and make my way inside. I sit in the car with the keys in the ignition, contemplating whether to leave or give Katniss a ride home.

I decide I had been chivalrous enough these past two days and start the car with every intention to leave. That's when I see her.

She walks through the doors and makes her way to the streets. It seems like she wants others to think she is fine walking, but I notice that her eyes kept peeping around as if waiting for me. Her trademark hunting jacket is missing from her back, and I swear that's the only reason I go to her. At least that's what I tell myself.

"Get in," I say through the open window. I nodded to the side of the door and she grudgingly walks around the car and into the unlocked door. As she sits in the seat I can't help but notice her body is shivering. I usually drive with the window open. It's a bad habit that I usually don't close for anyone, but this time I close it. I also turn the heat up as much as possible.

"Thanks," she mumbles and looks at me for the first time since she had made her way to the car.

"I'm sorry about ear-," I start only to be cut off by her.

"I really don't care, I was just," she searches her head for an appropriate answer and tugs on the end of her braid, "annoyed?" She says the word as if it is more of a question than a statement.

I nod my head and stare at the road in front of us, while Katniss keeps fidgeting in the seat trying to make herself comfortable. She then asks, "Did you finish painting the walls?"

"Uh, yeah," I begin, "you didn't leave that much to be done." This time she nods her head and looks out the window, I can't help but sneak glimpse at her from the corner of my eye.

There are things I notice about Katniss in this second that I haven't before. Like, she would unconsciously shake her head at her thoughts or touch the tip of her braid in a way to distract herself. Her scowl was more of a defense mechanism in a way that was almost endearing. If a drug addict can be endearing. I caught her eyes in a sneak attack, I never notice how clear her eyes were until this moment; they were light grey and stone cold, but also so warm.

She clears her throat and turns away only to glance back again and catch my eyes for a second time, "I think I'm warm enough now." She leans in to turn off the heater just as I do. Our hands brush together and I instantly pull mine back. A static electricity flows between the two of us and her head snaps to look at me and swallows hard.

My mind was turning hard at my thoughts, I can't look her strait in the face so I did the only thing I knew how to do and blurted, "I'm sorry."

She tugs on her braid and I wondered how much abuse it could take, "Peeta, you touched my hand," she smiles."It's not like you groped me," Her grin faltered as we turned onto the street and I can't help but see a look of dread fill her eyes. She smooths her shirt at these words.

I have to change the subject as I inched down the street; I had to change it to anything that averted that kind of thought of this girl. "Did you walk to the shelter today?"

She shook her head, "No, I got a ride from a friend."

"Oh, is that where your hunting jacket is?" I ask, trying to understand why a jacket that she never took off was suddenly missing.

She looks at me, with confusion etched across her forehead. "No, I left it at my friends house. We were celebrating the fact that it's a month to my 18th birthday," She says elusively.

I want to ask her who her friend is, but I somehow restrain myself.

"18, huh?" I say, scratching my head, "Almost legal," I laugh, she smirks.

"What are you now, 50?" She says, scrutinizing me from the passenger side, "I think I see some worry lines right here," she traces under her eyes.

"No. I'm 55, actually," I deadpan, keeping my sight on the road, only sneaking glances to look to her. She arches her eyebrow. "Ok, fine, I just turned 21."

Katniss whistles but never has the chance to say anything because I pull up the corner I dropped her off at last night.

She looks at me with fleeting hope. I smile at her not sure what to say, I move to unlock the doors so it's easier for her to exit.

She just stares at me conflict flashing before her eyes before she averts them. "Are you going to be at the shelter tomorrow," she asks.

"No," I say. I almost see disappointment, but her jaw juts out and she nods strongly. "It's only because I have this stupid family brunch that I promised my mom I'd go to." I smile at her. Why am I explaining myself?

She opens the door and shivers, "Katniss, wait," She twists her torso in the seat and inspects my movements. I lean behind and grab an old sweatshirt of mine, I figure it would be better than nothing, and I damn well won't give her my good leather jacket in the back I got for my birthday. "You'll be cold," I explain as I hold the black "Mellark's" sweatshirt out to her.

"It's like four houses down," she says never tearing her eyes away from the piece of clothing as if it was a death sentence. She gets out of the car and slams it shut.

I roll down the window and throw it out at her. "Don't be so damn headstrong, Katniss." I catch my breath as she turned around with a look of disdain, so in turn I give her a full blown smile. "It's just a sweatshirt." I see her lean down to pick it up and stare at it.

She spins on her heel and walks off but not in the direction of her house. She slips the sweatshirt over her head, the tan Mellark's logo on her back shines in the light as she moves forward. I continue behind her, following her at a slow pace. The sweatshirt envelopes her body as if it were ten sizes too big. I smile to myself, noticing how it falls bellow her bottom. I pull up next to her.

"Where are you going," I say. She turns to me skeptically, squinting my eyes, but her feet don't falter.

"I'm actually stopping by the Hawthorn's, Gale has my sweatshirt and he just got off at the mines, so…" she trails off, biting her lip.

I frown at her elusiveness, "Why didn't you tell me, I could have dropped you off there."

"It's whatever, his house is right past this corner anyway."

I am about to say that I can take her, but then I realize we are already in front of the bread box house. She turns to me, opens her mouth, and then turns her head to look in the distance. Just then an old beat-up Camery, with only one headlight lit, pulls through to the driveway.

The hulking frame of Gale Hawthorne pulls out of the car and looks at us. His brown head tilted to the side and took us in.

"Catnip," he yells, waving her over. In his grip is her hunting jacket.

She looks at me, rolls her eyes, and quickly mutters a goodbye. She walks slowly to the top of the driveway, gleefully greeting Gale, and throws her arms around him. She never looks back, but he stares me down.

Gale Hawthorne, that is a name I haven't heard of in a while. Gale is a good kid, the girls loved him back in high school, and he always took great care of his younger siblings. I mean I never really knew him, I only heard of things around the halls, but he seemed like a good one.

After Glimmer and Katniss stopped hanging out, if you ever wanted to find Katniss it was with Gale Hawthorne. It looks like that's still true, and I ignore the pit in my stomach when I leave her with him as I pull quickly away from the curb.

On my way to my apartment I push the girl from my thoughts. I turned up the radio and listened to the classic rock station, nothing was better than the Beatles, on a quick drive home.

My apartment is on the top floor of the new building. Unlike Katniss's house or the shelter, my apartment had been built two years ago right next to the heart of the town. I guess I had a bachelor pad, but it really wasn't. I only had one bedroom, that was met with a kitchen, living room, and bathroom.

I will say though, my decor is what makes the place so phenomenal.

As I trudge up the stairs, I instantly see a light peeking from under my apartment door that I don't remember leaving on. I unlock the door only to find Clove standing next to the kitchen counter; her chestnut hair fell in loose calculated curls down her back as she makes coffee. I clear my throat and burrowed my brows as she turns around with a smile.

"Surprise!" She says happily, and makes her way across the kitchen to greet me at the door. She reaches me and entertains her hands around my neck, irritatingly playing with the hairs at the nape of it.

"Why are you here?" I ask confused. I know for a fact that I did not ask her to come here. That was something I would definitely remember.

"Well, I rented a few movies and figured we could stay in and watch them together," she bats her eyelashes and presses her lips against mine. When I don't immediately return her kiss she looks up, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing," I reply a little too quickly and she shakes her head at me. "I just wasn't aware that you were coming. How did you even get in here?" I take her hands from around my neck and drop them to her sides.

Clove pouts at my actions and runs her hands along my forearm and I just don't have the energy to stop her. "Glimmer gave me Cato's key. She likes me," She goes to push her lips against mine, but I subconsciously pull back. Clove gets irritated at my lack of interest and spits, "Look if you don't want me here just say the word and I'm gone, kiddo." She says moving away to get her purse.

"No, it's fine, I'm just going to get changed, I spent all the time in the shelter painting. Why don't you order a pizza?" I reassure her and move to sweep a lock of hair behind her ears.

"Alright," she smiles and I lean in to kiss her one last time before heading to my bedroom.

As I open my door, I am thankful that I made my bed this morning. I take out a pair of jeans and a shirt and dressed as quickly as I could. I look about the room and see a blinking light, indicating I had new messages on my answering machine. I press the button and wait for the messages to play.

First, Cato's voice filled the room. "Hey man, so Glimmer gave Clove your key, just a warning. Thank god though, right? It's about time you got laid." He chuckles, "Anyway, get the key back. I need it so I can fuck with your shit… by the way why do you have cologne that smells like dill. It's fucking weird man."

I shake my head and press the delete button. Cato didn't have to tell me twice,

like I would let Clove keep a key to my apartment.

The next message started playing, and I quickly realize it's my mother, probably reminding me about tomorrow's lunch. "Peeta, you're father said you came by today while I was resting to bring things to the shelter. I hope that everything went smoothly and you didn't disappoint your father. We all know he has high hopes for you and this wasteful project of his," She huffs at me through the phone.

"Anyway, tomorrow there's the brunch and everyone will be there. Do me a favor and make sure that you're on time. I told your brothers to bring Glimmer and Darla, perhaps I will have Delly Cartwright keep you company." She said, "Well, just do us all a favor and be on time. Also make sure you're cleaned up. You never know who will show up." The voicemail only ends when her slams the phone down.

I sigh and make my way outside. Clove is on her knees fiddling with the DVD played. She looks over her shoulders and narrows her eyes at me, then pushes her brown hair from her face.

"Is this thing ancient?" She asks. "Seriously, Peeta, this has to be fifteen years old. Can't you afford to get a new one?"

I walk up behind her and take a seat next to her on the floor. Her hands are in her lap, while her eyes scrutinize the player as if it were written in an ancient language.

"That's part of its charm," my hands move to behind the machine and clicked a button that sprout it to life. She rolls her eyes at me.

"Well, that wasn't so hard," she turns to me, moving her legs to straddle my hips. "The pizza will be here in twenty minuets. What should we do with ourselves until then?" Her arms run up and down my arms, slowly making their way up to the nape of my neck, and her nails slowly graze my hairline.

I send her a crooked grin and pull her face to mine. Her lips slant over mine in a searing kiss as my hands ran up and down the curves of her sides. My hands slipped under her shirt and lifted the garment over her head, haphazardly throwing it to the side.

She is wearing a black lace bra that lifts her tits in the most perfect way. I brush my hand up her ribs tracing her tanned smooth skin. As I reached her bra I pulled the left strap down her shoulders, exposing her erect nipples. I move my hand to cup her breast kneading it, while she arches into my touch her right hand clawing at my shirt. Her lips separate perfectly and I leaned up to take her bottom lip into my mouth. I worry it in my teeth biting down harshly, just the way she likes. Her moan reverberates in her throat while my thumb flicked across her nipple, tugging it.

She then tears her lips away from mine, and looks down at my hands, slowly grinding herself into me. Her hands quickly make their way to the front of my shirt and pulls at the buttons, not caring whether she destroys it. I chuckle at her actions as she kisses her way down my chest, her nails following in her wake. Her claws flow over my skin making goosebumps emerge in their wake. She reaches my belt, undoes it with a flick of her wrist,and the next thing I know my pants, and boxers, are around my ankles.

She smiled at me like a cat about to go in for the kill. She leans back gives me the once over, her left hand plays with her breasts, while her other makes its way into her mouth and over my aching member.

"No time for romance, huh," I joke, looking at her through heavy eyelids.

Instead of responding, she grasps me in her fingertips. Her nails trace their way up and down, following the veins on my half-hard dick. Clove's hands circle at the bottom of it, squeezing. She, then, left my shaft moving lower to my balls.

Clove grips them gently. I let out a deep breath, squeeze my eyes shut, and moane, I think my dick have have grown three inches. I watch her through dilated pupils as she licks her cherry painted lips, and ever slowly hovers above my now full-raging hard on. She licks the head, tasting the fluids that seeped out, and left a trail of wet kisses moving down.

Then, thank the lord, her mouth covers my tip, her cheeks hollow, and her tongue swirls the head, lapping at me. I relax my head on my forearms and lay back against the hard wood floors.

Her lips moves up lingering at the top. Clove flicks her tongue over the head and then lapped at more of the fluid that seeps out of the slit. I moved my hands so my fingers could twine in the hair behind her head. I roughly pulled at her hair, causing her head to rock back. Her teeth grazed the head of my member and I let out a moan. I gather her hand around my fist, tugging, until her eyes bear into mine.

"Do you know how wet you make me when you do that?" She looks me in the eyes, licks her lips, and bends down. Her lips divided and she blew on my dick making me moan again. I slammed my head against the ground while my hand pushed the back of her head so her mouth would cover my erection again.

With one hand fisted in her hair I began to create the rhythm between us. She moaned as I tightened my fist on her hair, fucking her perfect lips.

Fuck, I can feel it build inside me. Her moans cause vibrations that make the most perfect feeling on my cock. I move her head faster and I feel her lips envelope me tighter. Fuck, this is so good, too good, heaven on fucking earth. I push her head all the way down on my member not caring whether or not she can take it. I know she can.

Her eyes flew open and look up at me, I was now watching my dick enter and exit her mouth. Oh shit.

Clove's whole body moves on top of mine. She shifts so I can get the perfect sight of her body. Her tits, which were bouncing, with her bra folded underneath them, beg for my touch. If only I can reach. She moans again and, as if she can read my thoughts, moves her hand to play with her tit. She watches me as she slid down my dick, moving at her own pace, which is faster than mine had been.

"Oh fuck," down and up, "touch yourself." She lifts her body up and follows my command, undoing her jeans. She stands up and takes them off, clad in a matching black thong, she slowly slides back down to her knees, straddling my legs once again. Her manicured fingers push her thong to the side and grazes her folds.

"Now what?" She looks at me coy, but I can't tear my eyes away from her hands as they rub, they move quickly, her hips shift on top.

"Pretend your hand is mine," I watch, and look down at my dick, it is glistening and standing for attention. "Now, I want you to insert one finger while your thumb circles your clit." Her hands mimic my demands, "Another finger,"

"Ooooh, yess," she throws her head back down on me, her lips sucking me off hard, while her hand was still fingering herself.

"Do you know how hard I'm going to fuck you?"

She moaned again, which caused a transaction between me.

I couldn't help grunting. The sight, the feeling, everything was too fucking good.

I came while my fist pushed her head and mouth down faster. Her throat contracted and swallowed everything. She lifted her head smiling, her hand pumping the last of my juices onto her tits.

I sat up and moved my hand and see how wet she is. Nothing that I thought was surprising. Her fingers were grinding hard, that is until I push them out of the way.

I lean closely and bite where her neck meets her shoulder. I slip two fingers into her entrance. "Tell me what you want," I whisper in her ear, lightly biting her ear.

She incoherently grunts as my fingers pump faster. I push another digit into her channel and smile against her ear, "tell me." I move up and circle her swollen bud.

"Faster," she moans and I comply.

In a matter of seconds she is attacking my lips, but I push her away. She moved back and slammed her body onto the ground. She screams as her orgasm hist her, I keep pumping my fingers in and out, constantly hitting her g spot. She grinds against my fingers as her hands move to her face covering her lips. She calms down her body heaving.

"Fuck, Peeta." She says smiling as she sits up. For a second, I thought she was going to kiss me again but I'm relieved when she slipped her jeans back on. I hate kissing girls after blow jobs.

The girl's mouth was just on my dick, like hell I was going to let her tongue in my mouth. Just then the doorbell rang which signaled the arrival of our dinner.

Two hours later, after we finished eating and fucking, I pull out of Clove and put her back on her feet. I hope to god that she doesn't plan on staying long, I have things to do and Clove is just treacherous territory.

I smile at her, she pushes at my chest, and I watch as she moves around my apartment looking for her lost clothing. I can't stop the flush of relief when she makes it known she isn't planning to stay.

When she slips her shirt over her head, she says, "Well, Peet, I got to go." Clove pushes the hair out of her face, quickly reapplies her lipstick, and comes to where I'm standing, fully clothed, leaning against the counter we just fucked on. She clasps her arms around my neck. She smacks her lips against my cheek and searches through her purse. In her palm she holds the keys to my apartment, she then puts them on the counter, making sure to rub my side with her arm. "Thanks for dinner." She winks at me and slides her hand against the door. "We should get together sometime soon." With that she walks through the door.

I smile to myself and move to clean my apartment. My hands make their way around the room, clearing of any remnants of Clove Duke.

You had to love easy girls.

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R+R hoping to hear what you think of this!


	4. Chapter 4

AHHH, I'm so sorry for the long wait. I'm the worst.

Anyway: here's chapter 4. For those of you who don't know I published a one-shot for K-POV for PIP, would you guys like me to post it here? It's also on my AO3 account so you can find it there. It's called "Deluded Fantasies"

Shameless Self Promotion: I also made a one-shot on this account for PIP also. You can check it out aboveeee 3

Much thanks to my beta, girl you're amazing.

Hope y'all enjoy this. Don't be afraid to send my criticism, gosh knows I like it.

Also: you can find my on tumblr at .com

Enjoy!

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The drive to my family's house is short, yet it's full of treacherous winding roads that leads to the outskirts of town. We use to live above the bakery, but the wealth my family gained over the years caused our bank accounts to swell.

Now my family lives in a nice area of Hanover, sweetly contained by forestry and grass.

I park outside the old, but recently renovated, colonial. It's rustic and tan, with brown shutters that match the stone pathway to the front door. From the driveway, I can tell that I'm the last one to arrive, which is just fantastic because that meant I was going to hear about it from my mom.

I silently hope that she's too distracted to even notice.

The women, Glimmer, Darla, and my mother are perched around the TV, discussing some inconsequential thing when I walk in. I can smell brunch cooking from the kitchen. I walk past the women, trying to make a quick exit to the kitchen, but Mom catches me and glances at me like a stone.

"You're late." She says, staring at me in a way that chills me to the bone.

Instead of pressing the matter as she usually would, she just pushes, "Make yourself useful and help your father in the kitchen." She then turns back to the other girls and continues her immaterial discussion about her day at the spa.

When I walk into the kitchen, Cato and Rye are at the island, drinking beer and dad is checking something in the oven. He then straitens his back and moves bacon from the stove to a plate on the counter.

"Hey man," Rye states, taking a long pull of beer from his Heineken.

Cato stares at his phone and with half his hand around his beer, he waves. Although he still doesn't look up from his iPhone.

Instead of sitting, I move to my father and help him pop muffins out of the baking sheet. This gets Cato's attention, or at least I think it does. He pulls himself over the counter and hunches his back. His phone has been discarded to the counter as he looks at me intently.

"How is the perfect son?" Cato mocks resting his head on his elbows, "Did widdle Pee-Wee have fun yesterday?"

I recall the way "More fun than you, I'm sure." I mutter under my breath, "Was the hangover bad?"

"You have no idea, bro." He says with a cocky smile. Cato then takes an exaggerated pull of his beer and pulses his eyebrows up and down.

I roll my eyes at him, what an idiot. "Oh, is Glimmer on her period or something?"

Cato's laughter barks through the kitchen, "Nah man." Cato looks at his watch, "It is late March though, so does that mean you're on yours?"

"Stop being such a dick," I say pushing myself up from the counter and put the fresh batch of blueberry muffins in the basket.

Cato slaps his palms down, "Hey dad, what's with the pink bow-tie. Trying to impress the ladies outside?"

My father shakes his head at me and then turns to Cato, "Haven't you heard that real men wear pink. At least, that's what you used to say when you wore those stupid pink khaki shorts in high school."

"Yo, those pants were so fly," Cato grins.

I remember those hideous pink khakis. Back when Cato thought that he was going to be a pro-lacrosse player he'd wear them with his stupid polos and quaff his blond hair back. Now his cropped hair barely touches his ears and he for sure is not a lax-bro. He was, sorry is, such a fucking douche-bag.

"Yo, those pants were so douchie-lax bro."

"You said bougie wrong, Peeta." Cato retorts.

nnnnnnnnnnnnnn

It starts when we're sitting at the dinner table. Rye and Darla are talking about their apartment together and the imminent possibility of settling down soon. This causes my mothers head to snap up. It's the moments like these, the ones that trickle by and are meant to be perfect, that turn out to be everything but. I cough, spitting my beer Heineken into my plate, but no one turns to me. Instead Cato drapes his arm around Glimmer and smirks, just before he tilts his own beer back.

Glimmer gushes, father congratulates, Cato smirks, I snort, and mother smiles. It's just too fucking perfect.

"Congratulations," my father says, lengthening his hand from beside me to reach across the table and touch my brother.

My mother leans in and speaks to Darla, "We'll have to reserve the country club of course for your bridal shower, oh this will just be perfect. My boy getting married. Soon there'll be grandchildren." She enthuses about the color pallet, and the cake, and everything women talk about when it comes to weddings. Glimmer joins in the talking and soon it is all about weddings and babies and possibilities.

From the left side, Cato kicks my foot under the table and wolfishly grins at me.

"What the fuck man?"

Cato's smile grows and shrugs his shoulders, "What?"

"Seriously?" I say kicking him back.

Cato bears his teeth, about to probably be his typical dick self and cause a scene to distract from what's going on, but something catches his ear.

"Of course, Cato and I have talked about it, haven't we sweetie," Glimmer says, putting her manicured hands on Cato's forearm. "I mean after we're settled in and with jobs after graduation, but that's the plan. We've been together forever, it's inevitable." She flips her blonde curls back and giggles at mom.

Then there's more talk, more female floundering secrets, and I just can't stop myself from rolling my eyes and leaning my head back to stare at the ceiling.

"We always knew Peeta would be a late bloomer, we just didn't think it would be this late," my mother points at me with her cold stare.

Come on, not now.

"Are you gay? Honestly you could tell me." She says looking at me and mumbles, "not that I'd like it."

This causes Cato to stomp his feet and gasp for air to stop his laughter.

"What? I- NO. Is that a serious question?"

"Oh don't worry Mrs. Mellark, he had a date last night with Clove Duke. Honest to god! She's such a spitfire." Glimmer, says.

I want to open up my mouth and scream what my mind yells: Glimmer, shut the fuck up; but instead my head finds itself into my hands.

"Elbows off the table," Cato mocks in a high pitch voice, probably trying to be our aunt Effie. I flip him off.

"Manners!" He taunts.

"I'm sure Peeta will find the right girl when it's time Margery," Darla says, resting her hand on top of my moms. She winks at me from across the table.

"You have no idea how often we see young guys who swear off love at the hospital, only to come in a month later married to someone." She says, but retracts at my mothers frown, "Not that Peeta would elope, but I'm just saying. Peeta's a good kid, always has been the kindest of all the bunch."

My mother hums, not out of agreeing, but just to get Darla to stop talking. The only reason my mind registers my mother's indifferent reaction is because she does that to me. It's as if I am a disappointment that could not be undone, like I was failure staring her in the face.

I pretend not to know about it. I pretend not to know about how much I disappoint her, with fake smiles and playing up my floundering debauchery.

I know I'm not my mothers favorite, or second favorite. I'm pretty sure she loved our dog Lightning more than me, but that's ok. I was the fuck up, no matter how hard I tried. There was no silver lining, only dark clouds loomed over my mothers opinions of me.

Sometimes, I succumb to her view of me and I hate it.

I don't need to look at my mom to know that she's looking at me with disdain. The tension in the air is thick and Darla keeps trying to defuse it, but it's not working.

"How was the shelter yesterday?" My father asks, putting a fork full of eggs in his mouth and washing it down with a sip of his orange juice.

I shrug, "It was fine I guess."

"And Haymitch?"

My mother interjects before he can answer, "Yes, how is that old drunk?"

My dad stiffens. One day I'll have to ask him about Haymitch's back story, as I know nothing about it. All I know is they've been friends from childhood and only grew apart once my parents married.

I wipe my mouth with the linen napkin and place it back on my lap. "Haymitch is Haymitch. I think he likes to pretend he doesn't care about these kids though." I take a sip of my beer. "They're growing on him."

My father nods and a sly smiles appears, but hides his smirk when my mother is her typical joyful self.

"Has he? They're probably just supplying him with liquor through the day. I bet those kids are stealing us blind, Harold. I told you this was a waste of money." My mother's short curly hair just makes her look like the bitch she is. It's frizzy, thin even. And no matter the amount of hair dye she puts on it she'll still look like she's 60. The makeup she uses doesn't cover up the cracks in her face, instead it just dusts the wrinkles, making them more profound.

I can't stop the words from escaping my mouth, I can't stop myself from disagreeing with my mom. "I think it's helping." I wipe my mouth with the napkin and throw it on the table, my inherited temper from her flares.

She challenges, "Yeah and who's it helping?"

Who was it helping, fuck if I know, I only knew one person who was there. I think through my day yesterday and try to see any valuable influence the shelter may have had.

"Katniss Everdeen," I inform her, not even thinking before I said her name. Once the words fly out I can't bring them back in and know I opened a can of worms.

"Oh that Seam trash? Isn't that Rachel Montgomery's daughter, Harold?" My mother asks, dad just stiffly nods his head at her question. "How did she end up there?"

"Drug bust probably," Glimmer says, and smirks at her nails. God, she's so superficial. "About time she got caught for something." She turns to Cato and whispers, "To think she was at your frat house on Friday. She could have stolen stuff." Glimmer's whisper was only meant for Cato, obviously, but because I'm so close to her I can hear each word and my brothers hushing noises.

"Hah," my mom laughs bitterly. "Seam trash is at the shelter, how great. She's probably smuggling drugs into that place."

I close my eyes, waiting for the subject to wear itself out, this bashing would continue and I refused to be part of the subject. Why would I even mention Katniss? Just when I give up, ready to tune out of this incessant conversation, Darla spoke. Her voice was strong, with conviction, something I never suspected her of having.

"Katniss has had a really rough life." She informs the table.

The silence resounds in the room, enshrouding the table like a thick set of fog. This causes my mother to cock her eyebrow at her future daughter-in-law, and Glimmers lips turn to a snarl.

"And how's that, Darla," Glimmer asks. I see Cato put his hand on her thigh, probably to calm her down.

Sensing that in these sanctioned four walls no one would listen to her, Darla closes her mouth. She coughs into her napkin, as if buying time. Her eyes shift from side to side when a small smile graces her face.

"I've just seen her at the hospital a lot," Darla explains.

My mother scoffs, "Vagrants spend a lot of time there too."

Darla is unaffected by my mothers harsh words. Instead she looks at Rye who touches her chin. I have this sinking feeling I'm not the first Mellark to reacquaint themselves with the elusive Katniss Everdeen.

nnnnnnnnnnnn

After brunch, my mother retired herself upstairs. It's just been such a long day and I have to rest before tennis tomorrow, she said climbing the stairs. I don't think anyone was exceptionally upset to see her leave so we let her go.

Dad is showing Rye his new ideas for the bakery, while Glimmer and Cato are canoodling on the deck lawn chair. They kept the screen door open so I couldn't stop myself from overhearing their wet lips and pants. His nose is pressed against her ears, murmuring things that are causing her to blush. I can only imagine.

Darla comes in from the kitchen, holding a bottled water. She sits on the couch next to me.

"Sorry, you didn't want a water did you?" She asks.

"Nah," I say smirking at her, "I'm good."

I honestly like Darla. She's heaps better than Glimmer, but still has her flaws. She looks at the TV that is going through the bracket for March Madness.

"So who do you pick Louisville or Kentucky?" She asks.

"PSH, like that's even a question. Kentucky of course," I say.

She frowns, "Ugh, I hate Kentucky, literally all they do is recruit freshmen then they go into the NBA. It's rude. I mean they don't even act or play like a team, just like a bunch of young studs." Darla shakes her head, "Louisville is just such a better team. Plus the whole Win for Ware thing was kinda beautiful."

"Please, they won last year! give some love to the eighth seed." I turn to her and look her in the eye. I can't lie and say I'm not intrigued by what she said at brunch about Katniss. As my mind is going through an internal debate about whether to ask her, Darla flips channels, landing on an old re-run of Friends.

"You don't mind do you?"

I shake my head. Friends is fine.

"Hey Darla?"

She smiles at me, "Hey Peeta?"

I chuckle, "So how do you know Katniss?"

Her smile fades quickly and looks around the room, probably to make sure no one's around to hear her. "I've seen her at the hospital a few times."

"Oh. Was she high?" I smooth my hands out on my jeans and cross them on my chest.

"No," she retorts. "I actually can't tell you why she's there, because doctor-patient confidentiality. You know?"

"Uh yeah…" I wasn't expecting that one.

"But I can say that a few years back Katniss' sister died of leukemia. Just after her dad had that accident. I wasn't on either case technically, I was still an intern so I can tell you."

I nod my head, pretending to know about the accident, but the truth is I have no idea. "Well, anyway. Prim, that was her name. She was such a sweet girl, looked absolutely nothing like Katniss." She chuckled. "All blonde hair and blue eyes. She was so young though - 12, if I remember correctly. She needed a bone marrow transplant badly. Things weren't looking good for her, and Katniss literally never left Prim's side.

"Once we told the family that they needed a donor and fast, Katniss tried to give her bone marrow, but she wasn't a match. Most people don't match their family for bone marrow, the odds are like 7 out of 10 that you won't find a match in your family. God, when Katniss found out she just kept saying, 'I'll volunteer it. Please, tell me what to do.'

"By the time they found a donor the cancer spread and… There was nothing that could be done. You know? So, that was really sad. Then her mom checked out..." Darla trails off, scoffing and shaking her head. In the moment she looks so angry at everything, her eyebrows knit across her forehead and she bites her nail cuticles.

"Checked out," I ask

"Yeah, like…" Darla looks into the distance then peers back at me, staring me in the eyes. "A few months later they had to check her mom into this center because she became comatose from her depression. She's in and out the psych ward at the hospital because she's not even aware enough to take her meds. Poor kid. Katniss never comes to see her when she's there. Usually Rachel's all on her own."

Well shit.

"That was like two years ago, though. I think she lives with her uncle." Darla says, tying her sleek, brown hair back from her face.

"When I do see Katniss she's usually with one of the Hawthorne boys or in and out for various reasons."

As Darla removes her egg chap-stick from her black Longchamp I take in the information. "So she goes in a lot?"

Darla nods, putting her chap-stick back in her purse.

"For drugs?"

"I can't say. I could lose my job. Why don't you ask her, since you've gotten close and all."

Gotten close? I barely know the girl, but I nod. If she only told me because she thinks I'm friends with the girl I'm not going to make Darla seem like an idiot.

Just when I'm about to switch the subject, Rye comes in with dad. Darla looks at him and smiles. "Hey," she says softly.

"Ready to go?"

Darla gets up from the couch and nods to him. She brushes her jeans off. "Well Peeta, it's been fun." She winks and pulls out her car keys. They say goodbye to everyone and leave. I should probably get going soon too.

I stand up front of the couch and meet my dad in the center of the room. "I think I'm going to head out."

"Ahh, ok" he says, "Listen, could you do me a favor and stop by the shelter to drop something off to Haymitch for me?"

"Why me? Cato's closer to it."

"Come on, Peeta. It's not out of the way, besides you really think Cato would go?"

Point taken.

"Besides, you're leaving now and the shelter will be closing soon."

"You do realize Haymitch lives there right? Cato could easily swing by on the way home."

"Cato!" My father yells calling my brother inside. It takes a few moments, but soon Cato's head pops in from the screen door.

"What's up?"

"Can you bring something to Haymitch on the way home?"

"No can do, Pops. I'm having dinner with Glimmer's family and we're going up there after this. Speakin of that," he turns back to Glimmer, "We gotta go, babe."

"Come on, don't be such a prat," I say to him.

"Awww, you too lazy? Let me just rearrange my schedule to accommodate you."

I flip him off and he grins at me. Typical. I turn back to my dad and nod my head. "I guess I'll do it."

My father smiles ruefully. "Ok. Let me just go the papers. They're forms from the contractor about the reconstruction we did."

As I wait for him to come back, Glimmer and Cato come inside. On their way to the kitchen, Glimmer comes to hug me and say bye.

"Did you have fun last night?" she raises her eyebrows. "Isn't Clove the best?" She smirks at me.

I roll my eyes at her, "Yeah Glim. Thanks. Really appreciate having random people in my house."

"I didn't think it'd be that much of an inconvenience for you."

Cato comes over and punches me. "You got my key man?"

"Yeah, about that, I think I need to have someone else hold my spare. Someone who doesn't give it to other people."

"Ahh please, don't be such a little bitch. We all know it was a favor to you, finally getting some." Cato holds out his palm, pumping his fingers in and out of his palm. I relent and pull his key out of my back pocket and put them in his stretched hand. "Ahh, now when's the next time you're leaving? I gotta plan the party."

"Fuck off." I say, "And don't give my keys out please. I really like my privacy."

"Why's that," Cato utters then tenses his face and grins largely. I brace myself, because the glee in his eyes only over means he's about to be the utter douche-bag. "You're tryna fuck Katniss, huh. Ya know, wrap it before you tap it bro. Don't want getting any diseases." I toll my eyes at him as he juts his hips forward.

Glimmer, on the other hand, will not take this as a joke. She slaps him in the chest hard. "You're a disgusting pig."

"Don't worry Babe, she's got nothing on you."

"Nothing on me? Seriously?" She screeches, "Seriously?" She scoffs and pushes her hands against his shoulder. "I would kill you if you touched her, you realize right? You know what? I wouldn't even have to kill you because you would catch syphilis. She's disgusting."

"Ah, Glim it was a joke. Let's just get out of here." He kisses the top of her head, but she doesn't move her head. She just stares in the distance with her hands folded over her pushed out chest.

She turns on her heel and exclaims, "I'll just see you in the car!"

He rolls his eyes and mutters "Women." He turns to me, "I'll see you later little bro?" He then yells to dad that he'll visit him later in the week at the bakery and leaves.

As dad jogs down the stairs he hands me a thick manilla folder. It's decently full. "Just drop this off with Haymitch, he'll appreciate it."

I nod my head and hug my dad. "No problem dad, I'll see you soon." I say and leave him.

"Thank you Peeta," he says.

I leave my house and swiftly slip into my car. I look at the manilla folder but am riddled to only find court documents, blueprints and a handwritten letter from my father to Haymitch. I teeter on the papers edge ready to read, but instead put it in the passenger seat. As much as I want to pry into the letter, I write it off as if it were nothing but some formal document. I roll my window down half-way and make my way over to the shelter.

The road blurs after twenty minutes of driving. The music blares but barely reaches my ears. Instead my thoughts are preoccupied on my questioned sexuality, Rye's engagement to Darla, and Katniss.

My thoughts first touch on the fact of her family. So torn apart and left without anything. For the first time I realize that maybe, just maybe, she didn't chose the hand she was dealt. She may just be playing the cards to the best of her ability, but I shrug it off.

Then I think of Cato's last statements. As if I'd want to fuck Katniss.

Sure, she's pretty enough, with long dark hair and smokey eyes, but she's too thin. Her bones jut out like an awkward teenager and her skin is a hollow, ashen olive, either from drugs or malnutrition, perhaps both. Her lips are chapped from biting and walking without proper protection in the cold weather. And Glimmer's right, even if she looked like Brooke Shields, I don't know where or with whom she's been. The last sentiment is enough to close any possible chance of being intimate with Katniss Everdeen.

Perhaps, perhaps even as I think these thoughts I know that all of her flaws and imperfections might just be the one thing that attracts me most. Like a broken winged animal, I could help her, but these sentiments are so lowly thought and quickly dismissed that I don't even tread on them. It's like as soon as they're thought they're flown out the window and into the freezing, winter wind.

I pull up to the shelter with my thoughts heavy. Gale Hawthorne's beat up car is pulled over in the parking lot. I take my sweet time getting my things ready. I'm about to leave my car but then I am distracted by yelling and a slamming car door.

I look up and Katniss has left Gale's car with him running after her. My sweatshirt is no where to be seen but her thin hunting jacket is in place. Gale tugs on her left arm trying to get her back into the car, pleading. She stops moving but looks angry. It looks like he's about to get her into the car when she yells and pulls herself away from him. She pushes on his chest and he lets her go.

His voice yells, and I can faintly here him saying, "We could do it you know." He's accusing her, yelling at her, name calling her. She does it back, floundering her hands widely and jabbing him in the chest with her fingers.

Suddenly he looks up, sees me, and scoffs. He turns around, gets into the car with a slam of his metal door, and speeds off down the street. Her jaw is jutted out and she turns to look at me in the eye. I expect to see sadness or fear, but instead I see anger and heat and the flushed undertones of her skin. She turns away from me and speeds off down the street.

I get out of the car and make my way inside the building. It's empty and smells of wet paint, the high ceilings make me feel infinitely small. I walk down the entrance into Haymitch's office and see that he's passed out on the desk. I put the papers down and try to nudge him awake, but he's unresponsive.

"Come on old man," I say shaking him harder.

Suddenly he jolts up with a scream. Then his labored breaths become shallow as he recognizes me.

"Damn kid, you can't just sneak up on people. It's wrong you know." He snorts.

"Here's the papers my dad told me to drop off."

He looks at the folder and peeks inside its lid. He quickly pulls the papers out and looks through them, specifically peering at the hand written letter.

"Yeah Yeah. Get out of here kid." He dismisses with a wave of his hand.

"That's it?" I ask, tensing my forehead expecting some other task to do.

"Yeah get outta here. See you soon." Haymitch never looks up from the document but keeps reading it with increasing interest.

I walk out of the building thinking of one thing and one thing only. Katniss. I expect to see her outside, slowly moseying around waiting for me to give her a ride. It's almost made me prideful that she would think of me like that.

But my head is in an internal battle: do I help her or not. I don't want to, or so I think, but my brain keeps fighting. I remember her thin hunting jacket in this chilled, frozen, even arctic weather.

Help the girl, she's going to die of the pneumonia and you'll hate yourself for the rest of your life and then you'll turn to drugs and die and then you'll be forced to spend an eon in hell with her and you don't want that. In other words, Help the damn girl.

I mean I don't want to die…

So, I go outside with the intent to save her, but she's already gone.

* * *

I really hope you liked it!


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